But this Essay did more to make its writer opponents than any previous one; how was this? It is methodical, and intelligible in the main; true, as all admit, and yet not commonplace; what is evil in it? Its style. This is not, however, the Richter, mad-cap style, glimpses of which we have now and then seen, but is grave, philosopher-like, and somewhat on stilts at times; it has not the ease, and pleasant run of the first of Carlyle's many modes of using language, nor the angular, direct, head-over-heels character of his second, which, halfdeveloped, has for a while been dropped; but is hard, brief, and not very transparent; it does not seem like the style of an unconscious writer, but rather as if the penman were determined to speak definitely, strongly, and in a marked manner; we could almost think there was an effort to keep away from that Richter-cobweb, to avoid" quips, and conceits, and all manner of crotchets," and to speak soberly; we have called this style hard, and yet it has a music of its own, though most ears might not detect it; it sometimes appears purposely involved, as if Carlyle had been guilty of wordiness; but a more thorough look shows this appearance to be the result of a choice of words made with reference to definiteness, and not intelligibility;-as where he says that every society "is the embodyment and tentative, more or less complete, of an Idea: all its tendencies of endeavor, specialities of custom, its laws, politics, and whole procedure, (as the glance of some Montesquieu across innumerable superficial entanglements can partly decipher,) are prescribed by an Idea," etc. But we suppose the objections to the style of this Essay may, in short, be stated in this, that it does not appear to be natural and true; and we are sorry to say that such is our own conviction; that it is affectedly false, or a Lie, we do not believe; that it is diseasedly false, and not the healthful tone of the man, all his writings induce us to think. How it came about, we ask not; but can only lament that it is

so.

But, if the style of the Characteristics seems to us untrue, much more so will that of the next essay to which we turn, the one upon Biography, and Boswell's life of Johnson, edited by Croker-which essay may be found in the April and May numbers of Frazer's Magazine, for 1832. Here Germanism and Richterism riot uncontrolled; and not merely is the first movement of the writer thus foreign, but his whole progress through forty closely printed pages, is of the same kind. And this is not the serious, high-walking style of the preceding paper, but

is full of humor and oddity, and views from strange points; it is distorted, perverted; with symbolical expressions, and conversational terms, and misty, dim suggestions, and comedy-like explanations; "his stream of meaning," to quote his own words as applied to Franz Hörn, "uniformly clear and wholesome in itself, will not flow quietly along its channel; but is ever and anon spurting up into epigram and antithetic jets. Playful he is, and kindly, and we do believe, honest-hearted; but there is a certain snappishness in him, a frisking abruptness; and then his sport is more a perpetual giggle than any dignified smile, or even any sufficient laugh with gravity succeeding it." And yet this last is scarce true of this paper on Johnson, for there is gravity in it, and the true spirit of the man breathing through; many passages are noble and stirring; many of the thoughts are new, or so curiously presented and illustrated as to seem so ; indeed, now, for the first time, does Carlyle appear to speak his own mind freely and joyously, and yet to do it, he assumes a foreign tone and garb; masks himself and then speaks boldly: the full man, in all his oddity and deformity, we rejoice to see, but the borrowed raiment we regret; we do not mean where professedly borrowed, but where unconsciously put on, for we acquit him of all affectation; we do not think affectation, in the true sense of that word, as yet, possible in this man. We speak of a mask which our writer has professedly borrowed: for already do we meet with the teachings of a German Professor, whose existence was but in the teeming brain of the man before

us.

From the supposed writings of Herr Saurteig, we have a long extract upon Reality, and its vast advantages over Fic tion, in which extract the German style of writing is imitated, and caricatured in some degree; from which professed and intentional imitation proceeds, we presume, that general imitation to which we have referred.

In the substance of this essay, there is, as we have said, much excellence; the speculations upou Reality are curious, and ably given; the review of Mr. Croker's work is searching and clear; the view of Boswell well worth our consideration; and the exposition of Johnson's own character among the most complete things of the kind which our writer has written. Let any one who wishes to see strongly the peculiarity of his mode of looking at, and judging of, men and things, compare this article with that in the Edinburgh Review of September, 1831: the last is clear, pictorial, flowing, pleasing, and impressive, but it relates entirely to the outer world and its doings;-what is 26

NO. VII.-VOL. IV.

seen, heard, and felt, is to Macauley, real and full of import; but to Carlyle, these things are symbols, exponents merely, which he would use to read the Soul with; he looks at all from a Spiritual point of view, and all has a spiritual meaning to him; Macauley closes with a perfect picture of the coterie of those times, Reynolds, and Burke, and Goldsmith, and Garrick, and Johnson, rolling, and blowing, and dictating in the midst; Carlyle closes with the spiritual portraits of David Hume and Samuel Johnson, "the two half men of their time," born in one year, moving in the same sphere, and embodying the "two grand Antagonisms of Europe," the destructive and conservative principles-blind denial and scarce clearer-eyed faith. Over Macauley's essay, we may dwell with pleasure, for many hours, it is so perfect in its kind; over Carlyle's, we must dwell for hours, if we would begin to enjoy it; to the one, we shall long look, as to a fair work of man, ever the same to our eyes — but the other is a tree which changes yearly, and spreads and strengthens yearly, and when it dies, leaves a progeny behind.

And now we shall quit the course of publication, and turn to the volume called Sartor Resartus, "the Tailor tailored over." The first chapters of this volume were not published, it is true, until November, 1833, but the style and tone of the work belong to 1832; and as we find in a paper on Goethe, published in August, 1832, several passages from the supposed writings of Teufelsdreck on Clothes, we do not doubt that the main features of the book existed at that time, if not on paper, at any rate in the writer's mind; and it is to this that we ascribe the peculiar style of some review articles which appeared before the Sartor, but were ranker than even Teufelsdreck.

"Every work," says Carlyle, speaking of Richter's writings in 1827, "be it fiction or serious treatise, is embaled in some fantastic wrappage, some mad narrative accounting for its appearance;" and again he tells us that "he has a whole imaginary geography of Europe in his novels." To Jean Paul, therefore, we may probably look, as the true originator, not of the language only, but also of the "fantastic wrappage" of this "mad narrative" with its "imaginary geography."

Sartor Resartus is a work on the Philosophy of Clothes, made up of selections from a volume on Clothes, by Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, Professor of Things in General, in the University of Know-not-where, and is illustrated by a spiritual biography

* So the name is spelt in the Edinburgh article.

of the author of that volume: in other words, it is a work on Spiritualism, wherein is presented the idea of that philosophy which makes all that we see and know symbolical of something unseen and unknown. The Clothes we wear are symbols; what were a House of Parliament or Court of Justice without Clothes? Our social, political, religious forms, are all symbols; they all look to a spiritual substance of Courtesy, Loyalty, Faith our bodies are symbols, appearances, visions, which fade when the day-spring of an Hereafter begins to rise upon us : the outward Universe is a symbol, a manifestation of that Being without whom nothing is, and who is everywhere. This Idea, surely not a small one, is here presented under countless aspects, grave, sublime, pathetic, humorous, and farcical; and lighted up as it is by an Imagination which knows no laws but those of its own nature, and which revels, and sports, and soars, and stoops with a freedom, grace, and strangeness, that provoke interest, love, and meditation, we read with mingled wonder, admiration, affection, and regret; cling to the book, while we blame it; make the author a bosom friend while we call him the most ridiculous of men; and quote him while we condemn him.

Of this strange volume we shall not pretend to give any account or outline, it were like sketching a will-o'-the-wisp; it has no plan or connexion that can be described, and, even to many of those that read it, will seem without beginning, middle, or end; and yet we think it will well repay an attentive study, even if such study should lead to its utter rejection, for it will cause any man to meditate, not to argue, but to look at his own nature and intuitions, and so will help him on the way to Truth, even though false in itself. Nor should we fear that any would draw poison from it; its strange ways and turns may tempt some to imitate, but such imitation cannot be lasting, because it would be too offensive: one, and but one evil we might fear from it, that it would encourage a cold and sneering spirit towards whatever was believed to be evil or false, instead of a spirit of pity, and love, and help; but when we look again, and see how much of love, and devotion, and deep enthusiasm there is in every chapter of the work, this danger seems to us visionary. But if from this source there is but little danger to the readers of Sartor Resartus, the fact that there is any thing therein which may pass for sarcasm and scoffing makes us fear that the mind of its author is already tainted in more vital points. than those which govern style and form:- from the first there have been some symptoms of a disposition to visit in ridicule the

self-deceiving and formal; but now this disposition appears more openly, his humor merges at times into pure derision, his smile is not joyous but grim. There are those that seize upon one idea, and for a while dwell wholly therein; it colors the world, and the beauty of the world is unseen, or seen but at intervals, and thus their minds become infected, and, if not partisan, narrowed. In this manner Carlyle seems to dwell in the Idea of Vitality, genuine living force; he is intolerant of those who are to him in error, to all imitators, to all self-curbers, to all that upon principle restrain, and alter, and correct.

But with all its falsity of style, with all its forced humor, and fanciful views, and semi-bigotry, and thousand extravagancies, -the work at which we are glancing is wonderful, and for the time, valuable it displays a most uncommon Intellect, speculative and imaginative; a most rare nature, twisted and strained though it be; and more than all, a spirit of Love, and Reverence, and Trust, that is worthy of all sympathy from us, let us think what we may of its peculiar manifestations. That this work will live we do not think, unless among the curiosities of literature, for we do not think it a genuine product of the writer's mind it will be superseded, very probably, by other writings of this man himself; if not, by those of some of the many followers who have been by him roused to free and deep thought.

The review of Goethe, published in August, 1832, we shall not dwell upon, but pass to the Essay upon Diderot, published in 1833. We find in this essay many of the strong peculiarities of the Sartor, still more strongly developed than there. The style is far ranker; involved, and crowded, and symbolical, to a most grievous extent, it becomes hard work to read it; the disease is rapidly approaching a crisis. The form of thought is more odd, and (such is our conviction) forced and untrue; it comes not with the flow of a fountain, but the irregular spurt and down-bearing force of the stream from a fire-engine. And the thoughts themselves, abundant, varied, stirring as they are, are also diseased; the Idea in which Carlyle is moving, that of vital force, changes the face of Diderot, till the writer loses all power of judging him aright; his very vileness is almost amiable, because it is his, not another's; the high Spiritual ground is abandoned, the Absolute good lost sight of, and the point of Genuineness alone is assumed as that from which a full view is taken the intolerance of which we spoke is here, too, harsher than ever; humor sinks into ridicule and sneers oftener than